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Live with Computer After too long on the Net, even a phone call can be a shock. My boyfriends Liverpudlian accent suddenly becomes indecipherable after the clarity of his words on screen; a secretarys tone seems more rejecting than Id imagined it would be. Time itself becomes fluidhours become minutes, and alternately seconds stretch into days. Weekends, once a highlight of my week, are now just two ordinary days. For the last three years, since I stopped working as a producer, I have done much of my work as a telecommuter. I submit articles and edit them via E-mail and communicate with colleagues on Internet mailing lists. My boyfriend lives in U.K.; so much of our relationship is computer-mediated. If I desired, I could stay inside for weeks without wanting anything. I can order food, and manage my money, love and work. In fact, at times I have spent as long as three weeks alone at home, going out only to get mail and buy newspapers and groceries. But after a while, life itself begins to feel unreal. I start to feel as though Ive merged with my machines, taking data in, spitting them back out, just another node on the Net. Others on line report the same symptoms. We start to strongly dislike the outside forms of socializing. We have become the Net opponents worst nightmare. What first seemed like a luxury, crawling from bed to computer, not worrying about hair, and clothes and face, has become an avoidance, a lack of discipline. And once you start replacing real human contact with cyber-interaction, coming back out of the cave can be quite difficult. | 
